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 Posted: Thu May 31, 2007 9:08 pm
May 31, 2007
Kupuul. That's the name of the island I rescued Dad off of. He calls it a rescue anyway. I don't know what I would call it. A vacation? Yeah, whatever.
August came to us on the last night we were lost in the woods. He didn't have a name right away, 'cause me and Dad aren't dumbass vegetable-namers, but after a couple of days passed and the cabbage didn't smell or wilt or anything, I got the idea that we should name it. We were on the boat on the way home. I think I woke Dad up when I asked what August's name should be, because he insists now that he never named him August, but I heard, and he did. I wouldn't make that s**t up.
Anyway, I said August didn't wilt or anything, plus he's heavier than normal produce, but even all that stuff wasn't what really convinced me he wasn't an everyday cabbage. When I woke up and first noticed him, I saw someone or something running away into the woods. I don't know who or what it was, but I'm almost positive it left August for us. I didn't chase it because Dad was sleeping, and even though I didn't know at the time that he was as messed up by the jungle as he is, I couldn't leave him alone there. I still don't know what happened to him, but someday he's telling me. I swear.
August's in here with me now, and he can stay for as long as he likes, unless he starts acting like a jackass. Sylvester, I'm looking at you.
Later,
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Posted: Tue Jun 12, 2007 4:44 pm
June 8, 2007
"You're looking at me about what?"
"Huh?"
Sylvester lowered his eyes back to the little lined book in his hands before he spoke again. "You said, 'Sylvester, I'm looking at you.' About what?"
"Could you be a little more vague?" Brownie shot her cousin a brief but disgusted look over her dogeared copy of Teen Vogue. The magazine had once had a cover complete with a label listing its intended destination, but Brownie had ripped it off, afraid that her father, or more likely Smerdle, would scold her for stealing.
"This." Sylvester waved August's journal around so she could see it before continuing to read. "Sylar's real name is Gabriel, by the way, not Zachary."
"I didn't name him after the character, I named him after the actor. And give that back!"
Sylvester frowned. Spending so many of the past few months in an alternate dimension had obviously cut in on his TV time more than he was willing to admit. "I will when you tell me what you meant."
"What?"
"'Sylvester, I'm looking at you.'"
"I meant you are a colossal jackass and that if August ever acted like you he would no longer be allowed to stay in my room. It's called sarcasm. Gimmie!"
"Oh. Well. I blame the translation." Sylvester had been able to read since birth, but the only written language he could understand until recently hadn't been english, even though he had spoken it just fine. The Tale closed the little diary and rolled off of the sofa onto his feet. He dropped the book the short distance to the coffee table Brownie had her feet propped on. "How are you even sure that thing is another kid?" he asked.
"Have you seen it?" Brownie scoffed, looking back down at her magazine. "It whirs. And it's warm. Sometimes."
"Yeah. It also looks all wilty and I think a leaf fell off after you came downstairs." Not waiting around for the inevitable explosion, Sylvester hid a smirk as he ducked out of the room and headed back toward the yard.
Brownie's pale brows furrowed as a low, angry sound burbled from the vicinity of her throat. She grabbed August's journal and stomped up the stairs and back to her bedroom. If she had been taking care of some regular old mutated cabbage all this time, someone was going to pay.
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Posted: Fri Jun 22, 2007 7:30 pm
June 17, 2007
Sunday morning had arrived with a rainstorm, a loud, cloudy affair that seemed to have gone unnoticed by everyone in the house except for Brownie. She had been awake for an hour and a half now, writing in August's journal and staring out her window as the lightning arced across the sky. Currently, she was leaning over the worn, towel-lined dog bed where she kept her little brother when she wasn't laboriously carting him around. Every day, Brownie sprayed the cabbage with water, removed any leaves that looked wilty or dead, and rubbed the rest with the least chemical-filled fertilizer she had been able to find. Sometimes she mixed the powdery vitamins with peanut butter or chocolate pudding or some other tasty substance. The kid had to develop good eating habits at some point.
Brownie had just finished applying a bright red mess of nutrients and strawberry jam to August's largest leaf when she felt the claustrophobic dampening of sound that meant someone was nearby.
"It's been a month." Chucky's voice was raspy with sleep. "I can help you bury the thing in the yard if you want. Maybe it'll grow another cabbage so you can play house again next ******** youu-ouu," Brownie sing-songed. "******** you and ******** Sylvester. You should both go ******** yourselves together in front of a huge crowd of bestiality and old man porn fetishists. ******** man? I'm not even forty--"
"Old." Brownie rose to her feet and brushed at the lap of her nightgown. She turned to her father and glared at Era as the tiny winged girl waved from her seated position on Chucky's shoulder. Stupid fairy. "You think it's so funny, Charles. You'll all see. August'll come and he'll be an awesome cabbage kid and I'll be the only one he loves because the rest of you thought he was doofy. And when he grows giant shoulder guns like they have on BattleTech at the arcade, I'll tell him to shoot you first." She smirked.
"Do you want eggs?"
"Mmm?"
"Eggs. I think there might be some cheddar that's not moldy to go in them." Chucky yawned and wiped at his eyes.
"So, that's it? You're not going to fight back?"
"Normally I would have commented on the 'Charles' thing, but I'm tired. My father used to call me that, and he wasn't the nicest person -- oh wait! Neither are you! Call me whatever you'd like then! More eggs for me, you crazy cabbage humper!" He turned and plodded slowly toward the stairs as Brownie huffed in disbelief and hurried after him.
"Daaaaad!"
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Posted: Sun Jul 29, 2007 9:26 pm
July 7, 2007
Something told him he should have been able to understand. The thing in front of him took a deep breath and spoke again.
A bastardized smile split the creature's maw.
Chucky blinked and tried to spur to action the part of his brain he was sure would know what was going on. So much of the past six months was muddled, and nearly every event between his last normal night, laughing in Winston's cabin, and waking up next to Brownie and her cabbage on that freighter was lost in a blur of dirt and tranquilizers. Try as he might, the meaning of the rolling, guttural word did not come to him, and Chucky's attention faded from his misty dreams to a wet, squishing sound in the real world, a liquid hiss that prompted him to sit up on his lumpy cot, eyes wide but mind not yet awake.
"Era?" he whispered. The little fairy didn't reply, but there was a sparkly tickle in Chucky's mind, a feeling he had only recently come to associate with obtaining the flighty Fury's attention. He turned to his dirty window, and had just registered that the dark streaks slicing across it meant rain when a shiny point of light sped up the steep attic stairs.
It zoomed across the room, ducked under Chucky's overlong hair, and whispered against his ear in Era's tiny voice. "Brownie's got something new." The winged girl was gone as quickly as she had arrived, and Chucky rose to his feet and stumbled after her, finger-combing his hair and trying not to trip. Something new? There could be only one new thing in Brownie's room, and Chucky wasn't entirely sure he was ready to meet it. He took each stair as slowly as he could manage, trying to convince himself that he was hesitating out of a need to keep from breaking his neck rather than from fear.
Brownie's curtains were tightly closed, and her room would have been quite a bit darker than the attic if Era hadn't been shining like a lighthouse just inside the door. Brownie was asleep. Era had been snooping, which meant there was a slight chance Chucky could dispose of whatever the cabbage had turned into without anyone even knowing it had been more than a defective vegetable. Chucky's pulse quickened as he slid into the room and hurried to the dog bed in the corner, intent on destroying this last link to Kupuul once and for all.
Era glowed more brightly than ever as she zipped past, stopping to hover over the sleeping child nestled in the remains of his incubator, a damp cabbage leaf clutched in his pale fist.
"No," Chucky whispered. The word was too low to hear unless one was inches away, but the toddler's eyes fluttered open anyway. He stretched and yawned and fixed his father with eyes so similar to Chucky's at that age that the man simply stopped breathing and stared, unable to do much else.
"Hi," the child said, his voice a strange, husky whisper that seemed to bounce around Chucky's mind more than the air between them.
Chucky continued to stare until his eyes and mouth were dry from holding them open. He held his fist to his lips as his eyes watered, staying silent so Brownie wouldn't wake. "Where did you come from?" he said softly, once the urge to cough had subsided.
"Dunno," August said. His blue eyes swirled under Era's pure white glow. Chucky couldn't help but notice that, as well as being the same shape as his own, they were nearly the same color.
"Keokuulku?" The question slipped out a bit louder than he'd intended.
Brownie rolled over and murmured softly, and Era dimmed and hovered low as she fled the room, Chucky close behind.
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Posted: Wed Aug 08, 2007 1:16 pm
July 16, 2007
August didn't like Cheerios. Chucky knew this because he had been spending a lot of his time spying on the child's meals from a seat at the top of the stairs, one which was just close enough to make out conversation in the kitchen but just far enough away not to be seen by those conversing. He had only missed one, a breakfast, due to a violently painful hangover that he didn't like thinking back on, but Era had been more than happy to fill him in on the details.
"He doesn't like Cheerios," she had said, right between the fortieth repetition of 'this is what got you into trouble in the first place,' and holding Chucky's aspirin out in front of her body like a fairy-sized bikini.
It therefore came as no surprise that in his ninth morning of life, August still didn't care for the circular cereal. It was fair to assume Smerdle simply felt obligated at this point to continue serving it until the box was empty. Waste not, and all that.
To be perfectly honest, Chucky didn't really care whether or not the kid liked Cheerios at all. He was certain that for every ten children who couldn't get enough of the stuff, there was bound to be one like August who didn't. What did irk him was the fact that Smerdle, Brownie and Sylvester seemed to have figured out his game.
For approximately the first week after August had become human-looking, the rest of the family had been so caught up in cooing over the newest arrival that they had failed to notice Chucky's reluctance to be in the same room as the child. He had managed, until recently, to enjoy breakfast, lunch and dinner without subjecting himself to August's creepy-a** presence.
It seemed, however, that Chucky's luck had run out. For the past two days he had lived on nothing but water from the attic shower and he was beginning to feel decidedly hollow. The last time he had been anywhere near food was when he had ventured into what he thought was an empty kitchen, only to be confronted by a smirking Sylvester who immediately shouted for Brownie to bring August downstairs to 'meet his father.' Right.
Even though he hadn't left the house since he had arrived three months ago, Chucky was suddenly sorely tempted to. It was only the promise of an uncomfortable press of sweaty, mumbling strangers kept him inside now, plus the fact that his car was long gone, and he hated the bus, almost preferring to starve rather than ride it. Besides, it was the principle of the thing. If he didn't want to see some b*****d spawn of Kupuul, his family shouldn't force him to, no matter who the kid happened to resemble.
His stomach growled in such a way that it seemed to be trying to speak, and while Chucky was certain someone had heard it down the block, the four at the table below continued their animated discussion of the house's cereal supply without missing a beat. Well, three of the four contributed. Chucky imagined August just sat there, planning how he would help execute the destruction of the planet.
"They're not going to leave," a happy voice twittered from the vicinity of his shoulder. Chucky jerked spastically, turning his head only to come face-to-face with his glowing Fury.
"Dammit, Era!" he whispered. He caught his breath then sneered, "If you cared at all, you would just bring me some food." Era shook her head as Smerdle guffawed over something Sylvester had said. That was it. There was no way in hell the kid was that funny. ******** phonies.
Chucky extended his legs a few steps and used the banister to pull himself to a standing position. Resisting the urge to stomp, he descended the stairs, turned, and stepped into the kitchen, securing his upper lip between his teeth to prevent anything venomous from escaping.
"Morning, Dad," Brownie said cheerfully.
He slid across the kitchen and grabbed a box of Pop Tarts before answering. "Sure." Chucky spun to face the table, nearly glaring at August as the boy sucked scrambled eggs off of his chubby knuckles. The kid stared back for a second before motioning to Brownie excitedly. She scooted closer and August leaned in, looking conspiratorial. After a couple of seconds of inaudible chatter, brother and sister erupted in nearly identical hitching peals of laughter. It must have been an amazing joke.
"He looks just like you, minus some stuff, of course," Smerdle added innocently. "I know I wasn't around when you were his age, but in all the pictures y..."
"Shut up," Chucky muttered. He suddenly slapped his open palm on the table, and everyone's attention snapped to it, as if they had found their picnic disturbed by a pile of moldy gerbils. All of his fingers but one curled into a fist, while the other pointed accusingly across the table at August's indifferent face. "He is not mine. I'm not saying you have to get rid of him or anything, just... shut up. I don't want to see him anymore. H... he's... Not. Mine."
Chucky could feel four pairs of eyes burning holes in his back as he stormed out of the kitchen and back up the stairs. This time, he did stomp.
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Posted: Mon Aug 13, 2007 8:40 am
August 5, 2007
Brownie hadn't seen Baxter since she had come home. Under normal circumstances, he would have been the first person she paid a visit to after an Adventure, but between her father and August, the girl had been preoccupied.
In a not-so-subtle act of assery, Chucky had, out of the blue, suggested that they all go to The Hose that morning, knowing full well that August was too young to enjoy it and Brownie's wings were bound to rust just thinking about that much water. It was the first time her father had offered to venture outside since they'd returned and Smerdle couldn't just blow it off but, to her credit, she did seem apologetic about the whole thing. She had even gone so far as to suggest Brownie go and visit her old friend, despite her misgivings about a young, impressionable girl spending time with a middle-aged, gun-toting racist. Brownie could have told her aunt she needn't worry, but she kept it to herself.
Since their destination was only across the street, Brownie was encouraging August to practice his walking. She had caught him at it a few days ago, but he seemed reluctant to try his legs in front of anyone. A rare appearance by Brownie the b***h had forced August to comply or be left behind. When they reached the sidewalk on the other side of the road, she scooped her brother into her arms, sighing at the weight.
"See, it wasn't so bad."
"No. Not bad," August quietly admitted, scrubbing a fist across his eye.
Baxter's house looked scary and run-down from the outside, but its intentional unpleasantness hadn't deterred Brownie the first time she saw it and she was fairly certain it would have no effect on August either. During her first encounter with Baxter he had threatened to shoot her, and they had been good friends (almost) ever since. Baxter hated anything or anyone that was 'less' than human or possessed magic, Brownie being the only exception she knew of. She hoped her brother would be the second.
As the pair approached the house, August heard a faint wail coming from its general direction. He tapped Brownie on the shoulder, and when she looked at him, he mouthed the word, "Listen." Sure enough, when Brownie took another few steps forward and craned her neck toward the front door, she could hear it too. Weird.
She hurried forward - as fast as she could with an armful of toddler - and rapped on the door, hard. Baxter had once told her why he had disconnected his doorbell, but Brownie couldn't remember the reason. Something about cultists. At her knock, the crying got louder.
"Go away," a man's voice rasped from the other side of the door.
"Baxter? It's me."
Several loud stomps briefly accompanied the hysterical sobbing for a moment before the door swung open and both kids were greeted by a distinctly flustered Baxter Green. He squinted his eyes at August, and when August squinted back, Baxter sighed.
"Get your a** in here," he said, stepping aside to allow Brownie to enter the house. As she crossed the threshold there was a thunk, followed by the hitching, wet crying of a very small person. Baxter slammed the door behind Brownie, almost bashing her in the back in the process, and rushed past her to return to the kitchen. What the hell was going on?
Brownie hobbled after him, expecting aliens or man-eating plants, or maybe a zombie. What she saw when she rounded the corner was a little sobbing red-faced girl, a bit younger than August, being lifted off of the floor by Baxter. It had appeared that she had been trying to crawl toward his closed bedroom door. From behind the door, there was a strange scratching sound, but no other noise that Brownie could hear. She put August down on the floor and hurried to Baxter's side, her sudden appearance and bright, spiky hair enough to distract the child into silence for the moment. The baby lifted one of her own brightly decorated dreadlocks and shoved it into her mouth as she continued to stare.
"Where'd you get that?" Brownie asked.
"You don't want to know."
"What?" August had crawled over to the bedroom door and was pointing at a stuffed sausagey thing as it frantically darted in and out of the crack under the door.
"Nothing," Baxter began, but it was too late. Brownie was crossing the room and opening the door and was watching, wide-eyed, as a living sock monkey got to its feet and stumbled over to sit near Baxter's. The dreadlocked baby cooed, "Po, Po, Po," and yawned hugely, nuzzling into her father's shirt.
"I think you'd better start explaining yourself."
"After you," Baxter muttered, glaring at August.
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Posted: Mon Aug 13, 2007 8:41 am
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Posted: Mon Sep 03, 2007 9:30 am
August 13, 2007
After several long, drawn out stories featuring living houses and cabbages and dominatrix ballerinas and forest monsters and cat people, during which August and the living sock monkey had played on the floor, Baxter had handily suggested a DNA test to determine, once and for all, if August's ancestry involved Chucky in any way. Baxter seemed to take to August fairly well, but when Brownie asked, he insisted it was just because the kid was obviously at least 50% human, and couldn't help it if one of his parents had been 'some ******** alien.' Brownie almost made a crack about Baxter softening in his old age, but in the end she kept it to herself. His feelings had probably had more to do with the little dreadlocked girl sleeping in the next room than any true overall change of heart.
Brownie's internet search on DNA testing had been exhaustive and had eventually led her to something involving buccal swabs. They sounded effective, but certainly not something she wanted to try doing to her father. A bit more searching had turned up a test that relied on chewing gum or space-age Qtips, and a few clicks and a sneaky application of Smerdle's credit card number later, the kit was on its way to 1723 Oracle Street.
For the past week, Brownie had managed to intercept the mail before anyone else knew it had arrived, and today her vigilance had finally paid off. The box was smaller than she had expected, but proved to contain everything she needed. Four long, blunt-headed Qtips? Check. Four pieces of luscious, luscious cell-capturing chewing gum? Check. Two little airtight plastic containers? Check. A padded return envelope? Check. A consent form... Brownie's brow furrowed and she set the thick sheaf of carbon copies aside. She would cross that bridge when she came to it.
She took one of the swabs from its plastic baggie and pulled at its protective cap.
"August? Come here for a minute."
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Posted: Wed Dec 19, 2007 7:25 pm
August 28, 2007
Bright twinkling fairies spun around August's head, coaxing a giggle out of the boy every time they landed on his forehead or nose. Brownie sat on the sofa a few feet away, watching her new Heroes DVDs on mute.
"Brownie?" Smerdle's question floated into the living room from the hall. Her voice was soft and she sounded tired.
"Hmm?"
"Don't use my credit card anymore."
The girl's sigh was barely audible, but Smerdle ducked her head into the room anyway. "And don't sigh like that."
Brownie paused the DVD, leaving Noah Bennett's giant bespectacled head onscreen as she spoke. "You know the thing I used it for was important," she said, turning her body slightly, so she could see her aunt without ripping the sofa.
"Yeah, sure." She walked around the sofa and sat on the edge of a cushion. "Have you heard anything back?"
Brownie shook her head. "You'll be the first to know." She faced the television again and clicked its picture back into motion.
Several minutes later, the winged girl clicked off the TV and turned back to her aunt. Smerdle was leaning back against the sofa, asleep, the breeze from her ragged breathing fluttering the collar of her flannel pajamas. Brownie rose to her feet and stepped closer to her brother, simultaneously shooing Ben and Era and reaching out a hand for August to grab.
"Aunt Smerdle looks like s**t," she commented as the two left the room.
August nodded.
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Posted: Wed Dec 19, 2007 7:26 pm
August 31, 2007
"And the boy?"
"His name is Charles."
A giggle bounced through the air, and a chubby hand followed it. A woman swam into focus, her thick auburn hair sparkling with shining, unearthly glints.
"He has your eyes," the first voice, a male one, said.
"They're beautiful on him." The woman's mouth moved as she spoke, but her lips didn't quite match what she was saying. It was disorienting. Momentary darkness flashed over the scene, like a slow blink.
"They're beautiful on you." The man suddenly appeared at her back, and the woman smiled as he leaned forward to kiss a line from her ear to her collarbone. His hair was already beginning to gray at the temples, but the rest was as black as onyx and twice as glossy. It shone like the woman's, but where she was golden, he was all diamonds and silver.
There was the tinkle of laughter and then the world went dark.
Chucky awoke to a sharp pain in his chest. He sat up, then continued leaning forward, cradling his head on his knees as his hands pressed against the front of his damp t-shirt.
"His name is Charles."
Phantom voices echoed between his ears, each syllable sending a lance of hurt through his body.
Charles.
"Era?" Chucky whispered, afraid that his head might split if he raised his voice. No one answered, but Chucky could feel a purposeful drone in his mind, adding to the happy trill of his mother's words. His mother. Laughing with a man that wasn't his father. Being kissed by a stranger.
"Era," he whimpered as his body shuddered with pain.
Charles.
He managed to stand, keeping a palm clamped to his mouth in case his stomach decided to turn traitor. His eyes were closed as well, and it took what seemed like forever to feel his way down the attic stairs with his free hand. Once he was on the second floor landing, he lifted his lids with great effort and dragged his hand from his face. Tears trickled in its wake, released from his now-open eyes, and he couldn't help but notice the near-blinding white light emanating from the crack beneath Smerdle's door. Two figures stood in its glare - Brownie seemed to be on the verge of hysteria and August merely curious. The boy stared at his father instead of the light, and it was Chucky who looked away first.
"Go to sleep," Chucky breathed. He took a step toward Smerdle's room.
"Dad..."
"Don't forget... I love you, Brownie."
In an instant, the girl's expression shifted from fright to anger. "You're an a*****e." Lifting August into her arms, Brownie quickly headed back into her room. It was only after Chucky had turned toward the glowing door that the two returned to peer back into the hall.
Chucky reached out and grabbed the knob. Normally, the metal would have been too warm to touch comfortably, but Chucky burned with an unnatural fever. He turned his hand at the wrist and pushed open the door.
If he had been expecting something out of a horror movie, Chucky might have been disappointed. Luckily, between the painful vise still gripping his heart, and the spasms that wracked his body every few minutes, he was too preoccupied to expect much of anything at all. Smerdle remained motionless, lying on her bed, the thin sheet she used during the summer flung to the floor in what must have been an earlier fit. She was very pale. Curled on her stomach was Era, wrapped around another tiny body that was equally bright. They had identical coloration, but the Fury next to Era was male. Ben. He had grown. The light they gave off might have mortally injured an albino. Chucky's eyes were slits, but other than that, he didn't seem to notice. He watched for the rise and fall of Smerdle's chest. It was still.
"Smerdle? Smerdle!" He rushed to her side, grabbed her by the shoulders and shook, somehow ignoring the pain that shot through his own arms. "Smerdle!" he tried again. He slid a hand across his sweat-slicked face. "Raquel, wake up. Please?" His hands stilled. "Era!" No response.
A tear, then two, then too many to count, slipped down Chucky's cheeks and chin, some landing on the front of his shirt, others splashing on the floor. He cupped her head in his hands and tilted it back in an entirely unhelpful imitation of those choking victim posters on the walls at Burger King. Smerdle's jaw was slack and her mouth fell open of its own accord. Chucky leaned forward and pressed the bare skin of his lips to hers.
There was a deafening crack, and the room went dark.
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Posted: Wed Dec 19, 2007 7:27 pm
Chucky opened his eyes.
He was dressed in larger versions of infant's clothing, although how he knew the prim, collared shirt, vest and trousers were a baby's he wasn't sure. He sat in an empty room, but it wasn't quite as empty as he thought.
Chucky closed his eyes.He opened them again with a gasp.
He sat in an empty...
August sat next to him.
"Keokuulku."
"Not you too."
"Not me. You."
Chucky turned his head, shooting the little boy a quizzical glare. "What?"
"You and Aunt are Keokuulku. Stop dreaming bad things about me."
"I wasn't!" Chucky drew in a breath to continue arguing, but exhaled again at the look on August's face. "Why are you here?" he asked instead. "What do you know about Keokuulku?"
"I know what you know. I think I'm here 'cause you don't like me." The child grinned suddenly, and Chucky had to turn away.
"You look like me."
"You're my dad. You know so too. I see it in your head all the time."
"What happened on Kupuul?"
"I don't know. All I know now is you and Aunt are Keokuulku."
"But what does that mean?"
August shrugged.
Chucky blinked and his son was gone.
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Posted: Wed Dec 19, 2007 7:28 pm
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Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2008 7:20 am
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Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2008 7:21 am
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Posted: Fri May 30, 2008 5:23 pm
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